


Forbidden (Forbid, Den)

by IShipWhatIShip



Category: AlDub - Fandom
Genre: AU, AlDub - Freeform, Alternate Universe - Dark, F/M, MaiChard - Freeform, Rating: NC17, Sexual Content, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-18
Updated: 2016-06-25
Packaged: 2018-05-21 10:46:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6048607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IShipWhatIShip/pseuds/IShipWhatIShip
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alden and Maine found themselves being haunted by a past that didn't belong to them. A past that belonged to a certain Dennard and Divina. There was the presence of a strange little boy, an antique mirror that showed disturbing images, and a faceless woman. The multi-chapter version of the Forbidden One-shot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> AN: Un-beta-ed. Just in case you missed the warnings--- NOT FOR THE SENSITIVE READERS and definitely NOT for MINORS. It contains really sensitive themes that could be considered disturbing.

_The Spirit took control of me, and the angel carried me to a desert. There I saw a woman sitting on a red beast that had names insulting to God written all over it; the beast had seven heads and ten horns._

_\- Revelations 17.3_

**PRELUDE**

**1700’s**

Living in a _pueblo_ like Magdalena is similar to living with the mockeries of life.

It is not a popular town—far from it. The town’s whereabouts barely graze the national newspapers and when they do, it’s merely an inch of an article, with either the name of the town or the townspeople involved, misspelled. Even the _gobernadorcill_ o didn’t seem to care.

It’s a rich town. Or rather most of its people are rich with families mostly belonging to social class _Principalia_ , making its number one philosophy as “If we don’t have it, we bring it in”. It’s a town which can keep to itself. It doesn’t need anything outside to survive.

When a hospital was needed, la familia Santiago had a small hospital built. When a church was needed, la familia Garcia made sure it was built in months. When there was a problem with lack of transportation, la familia Jaena had provided several _calesas_ to serve the townspeople.

This way of living has dated back to decades ago (since the Spanish first arrived) and still hasn’t changed in the present. Magdalena is now a town with the latest conveniences and yet it remained exclusive, almost like a private village. The only visitors the town have are the distant relatives and friends of the townspeople, but they do not stay long. At first, they will be awed by everything, but by the end of their vacation, they will always decide that this town is too quiet and too private for them. Away from the noisy life in the _ciudad_. It’s as if the town itself doesn’t want strangers living in it therefore it’s sending them away in its own way.

La familia Nieves lives in Magdalena.

The affluent family resides in a huge stone house called _La Villa_ (The Villa)--- the type of bahay na bato that came with tall, wooden basement gates with iron locks, stone floors, and ancient chandeliers. Despite its size, the Villa isn’t isolated from the other dwellings. It has no long driveways or huge gardens. Instead it’s located right at the center of the town.

The family, who is mainly composed of three members, is well-known in the village. They are known to be Patrons of Religion. The perfect couple never failed to attend mass on Sundays, bringing their son along, to hear the words of God.

The mother, always dressed on her Sunday best, a mestiza dress, is the epitome of a woman of faith. People call her the Earth Maria. With her milky complexion, long brown hair, rosy lips, and gentle facial features, it was a perfect title.

The father, a tall and well-built man with prominent mestizo features, is respected and patronized by every person in town. Every 4th Sunday of the month, right after the mass, he always had a cup of tea with the town friar. No one was supposed to know yet everyone knew that he always left a bag of gold at the Church office.

Then there was the three-year-old son. The townspeople find him adorable. He always sat quietly between his mother and his nursemaid during Sunday service as if he understood he was supposed to stay still. He just looked at everything with the wide-eyed innocence of a child. Yet, after every mass, the silence paves way to cheerful babbles and his toothy smiles always bring certain light to everyone’s faces.

La familia Nieves is the ideal family.

The townspeople knew nothing of the strangeness behind the perfection. Or the secret that was being covered by such perfection.

No one knew that the servants, sans the boy’s nursemaid, are forbidden to enter the main house when the family members are there. There’s a small, narrow corridor intended for their use. During the day, the corridor is quiet despite the activity. At night, it’s different. The corridor is most loud at night, the stillness bearing witness to the secrets the shadows bring.

No one knew that the Master and the Mistress of the villa sleep in separate bedrooms. That the bedroom of the Master leads to the room of his son, where the little boy and his nursemaid sleep. And that the bedroom of the mistress has a door to an underground pathway towards the town church.

No one knew that the Master is impotent. And that there’s no way they could have a baby, yet they have one.

No one knew that the reason why the Mistress wasn’t seen outside when she was pregnant with the boy because she was… different from the Mistress everyone knew. That the Earth Maria had vanished, as if another persona has took over her body while she was carrying her son. That she was replaced by… the Earth Babylon.

No one knew that there’s a reason behind the silence of the servants, behind the apparent blindness and deafness despite the groans of despair the shadows make at night.

The Mistress was Constancia Lopez’s ancestor. Her portrait hung at a hallway in the Lopez mansion.

Her blood flows in Dennard’s and Divina’s veins.

From the very start, it was a path towards hell and hell alone.

**TBC.**


	2. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, just in case you missed the WARNINGS--- this is NOT for the SENSITIVE readers. This contains dark and sensitive issues. DEFINITELY NOT FOR MINORS.

_After the thousand years are over, Satan will be set loose from his prison, and he will go out to deceive the nations scattered over the whole world, that is, Gog and Magog. Satan will bring them all together for battle, as many as the grains of sand on the seashore._

  * _Revelation 20.7-8_



 

**Chapter 1**

**Dennard and Divina**

**_1945_ **

The halls of the grand Villa Lopez was filled with the cries of a baby boy.

 

The weather was beautiful, as if heaven was celebrating because of the newest addition to the family. It was sunny and the sky was clear. Even the birds were chirping a string of lovely tunes.

 

To a normal family, these cries would have been considered music to the parents’ ears. A baby always caused parents to become emotional in a good way.

 

Unfortunately, the Lopez family was not a normal family. Fernando Lopez and Constancia Lopez were not a normal couple.

 

To Fernando Lopez, having a son meant only one thing: an obligation. An obligation that was finally fulfilled---he now has an heir. Someone who would take over the family name and would bring it to new heights in his generation.

 

For Constancia Lopez, it was different. Having a son meant a burden, an added unnecessary responsibility to her still-young status. She just turned twenty and she’s already a mother. While most of her friends would have been ecstatic with such a luck, she was not. Marrying at such a young age already robbed her of her freedom as a young woman; having a child totally stripped off her essence as one. She could no longer be called a _young woman_. 

 

They haven’t been married for a long time, but Fernando had decided they should start building a family. Constancia was technically her husband’s _property_ now, and she couldn’t do anything but succumb to his wishes.

 

Such was the predicament of a woman in a patriarchal society. She belonged to him now. Her parents didn’t even hesitate to say yes when the oldest son of the Lopez Family asked for her hand in marriage.

 

Constancia’s wedding day was the day she surrendered her chance for true happiness.

 

She allowed Fernando to devour her, body and soul, during their wedding night.

 

And now, the product of that night of worldly possession had finally came out.

 

Fernando named him Dennard.

 

\---

 

**Dennard**

**1 Year Old**

 

A presence of a child would have made a difference in the life of a married couple, most especially if the child was someone like Dennard.

 

Sweet, overly cute Dennard.

 

But he didn’t. Dennard remained as an addition to the household, he was not **_an addition to the family_**.

 

The Villa has two major wings---the East and the West.

 

Despite Dennard still being a young child, his parents’ bedroom was situated at the East Wing while his was in the West Wing. The wings were separated by a grand, marble staircase. The Butler’s room was located in the West Wing—he was meant to look after the little boy—while the other servants’ quarters were in the East Wing.

           

The boy’s Yaya was not permitted in the East Wing, and her job was solely to look after the boy. The Yaya was against the physical distance between the parents and their child, but she’s merely a servant and has no voice on the matter. To compensate for the lack of parental concern, she always tried to shower the boy with motherly affection.

           

The Yaya’s name was Martha.

           

Martha had always thought of Dennard Lopez as a beautiful child, not because of his physical features, but because of his pure childlike innocence. He _is_ a child and he acts like one--- no extraordinary milestones that showed he’s one of the gifted children, who often appeared in posters pasted all over town or in local newspapers and television shows.

           

Physically, most people don’t find him beautiful or handsome for a child. Cute, probably, most likely brought about by his unusual-yet-still-childlike features, but never beautiful. She had always wondered why.

 

Dennard inherited his father’s aristocratic face and his mother’s complexion. He has dark brown eyes, clear, white, milky skin, and naturally straight, shiny, black hair that curled a bit at the ends. His most noticeable feature though was the crease on his left cheek. A dimple so deep it always appeared even when the child wasn’t smiling.

 

“Snow,” Martha heard the little boy sigh, which brought her attention to him, bringing a smile on her face. The child was seated at the wide window seat with a smile of his own, gazing outside. She was sure the little boy was imagining that there’s snow again. The little boy has quite the imagination and was too smart for a boy his age.

           

Winter is Dennard’s favorite season of the year.  He always loved to look at his story book, which was set during a Winter in Scotland--- the frost-covered mountainside, the view reminiscent of a hand-painted card he received from his Yaya. A card, which his young mind obviously cherished as he always asked his Yaya to show him the card every night before he went to bed. He wouldn’t stop making a fuss unless Martha sat beside him and showed him the card.

 

Snow seemed to give the child comfort.

           

Martha watched the child whom she treats as her own. She witnessed as Dennard continued to watch admirably the _imaginary_ falling snowflakes with wide-eyed innocence, unmindful of the fond gaze he’s receiving from his Yaya. Martha brought down the jumper she was folding in favor of joining Dennard.

           

She sat on the tiny space behind him and placed a hand on his tiny waist.

           

“Snow,” she whispered back, earning her a look from the child. Dennard toothily smiled at her, that crease deepening. His eyes turned into adorable tiny slits, before he brought his attention back to the window. Martha ran her fingers through his soft hair and placed a kiss on top of the black fluff.

           

It’s been twenty years.

 

Martha has been working for the Lopez Family since she was fresh out of high school. It was a job opportunity that someone like her should be grateful to receive. Life in the country was hard when she was in high school because of the war.

 

She _was_ grateful back then. That’s why she took it without hesitation.

           

But it’s been twenty years… and now, she finally wished she didn’t. 

           

Martha’s frown deepened as she looked back at Dennard. If it weren’t for this child, she would have a year ago, to a faraway land, probably the mountains, where no one would recognize her. Where she would easily vanish and just be another ordinary, worthless face in the memory of people.

           

It would have been better. Because in that land, there would be no shadows---shadows carrying secrets in the night she had been keeping away from Dennard. The shadows scared her without touching her. Twenty years of witnessing the silent movements of the night infiltrators was finally draining her, suffocating her even though she has air to breathe. Her soul was killing her slowly every day, pushing her to forcibly just leave and abandon everything in haste without thinking of the consequences.

           

This child in her arms was the only one that tamed the wild beast of desperation inside her chest. Every time she tried snatching her already-packed satchel, which contained her measly belongings, Dennard’s innocent face flooded her vision, effectively halting her attempt at escape.

           

She would never leave this child--- it’s an oath she didn’t want to break. She was the only one protecting him from the shadows that would inevitably consume him. She knew he still has a few years before he would be forced to embrace a fate that she hoped he’d be free of. She has every intention of taking advantage of those years by thinking of ways on how he could escape it. Dennard, in a way, saved her from directly succumbing to the shadows and she would pay him back by keeping him away from them as long as she can.

           

Martha closed her eyes as she felt Dennard bounce in her arms, his squeal of excitement sweetly piercing her mind. She hugged the child closer to her protectively as if her arms were enough to shield him from the disturbing truths behind the lies.

           

They would never be enough. Her arms would never be enough and that’s _the truth_.

           

“I promise to stay with you as long as I can,” she whispered, earning a giggle from the little child. A promise from the soul and not from the heart. Martha’s old enough to know that a heart constantly changes because it’s always too weak to resist the strongest of forces the mind makes up.

           

Dennard looked up at her and pressed a tiny chubby hand on her face.

           

“Ya-ya. Ma-tha,” he said in a small, cheerful voice.

           

Her heart swelled with joy and protectiveness. The tiny gesture from the innocent hand was enough for Martha to survive another day in a place she secretly called _inferno_. Though ironically, in spite of the name, she never feel the supposedly blazing fires of hell. Instead, she always felt cold--- so cold that she felt like she was burning from absolute coldness.

           

She absentmindedly hummed a random tune.

 

Yes, she would never leave this child alone. Dennard would never get burned.

 

Unfortunately, the shadows heard her. They didn’t approve.

           

The next day, Dennard has a new Yaya. Martha had disappeared along with her measly belongings and the oath she swore not to break.

           

When Enrico, the Butler, was asked, he would only say that Martha has disappeared leaving a letter asking him to take care of the child in her absence.

 

Another twisted truth to a building up tower of lies.

 

\---

 

The new Yaya, Dottie, was very different from Martha. She didn’t not play with him. Didn’t coo to him. Didn’t sing for him. She was just there to perform a job and nothing else.

           

At least she always brought him to the small plaza---once the flowers started to bloom again---even though she has done nothing to show she even cared about the child.

           

Today, they were at the plaza again, sprawled on a blanket under a tree. Dennard’s playing with his favorite toys, but the expression on his face would tell anyone he wanted someone to play with him.

 

He pouted at his Yaya, who was reading a book, silently begging her. If it’s another person, she would have succumbed to such innocence. But Dottie ignored him and continued to read her book.

           

The pout turned into a serious frown. The little boy’s face showed that he couldn’t understand why Martha didn’t play with him anymore and why his new companion seemed to not like him. His eyes started to water at the lack of response and attention from the woman. But before he could even cry, his attention seemed to be suddenly caught by something else.

           

Dennard’s eyes landed on the bushes a few feet away. He gazed at the area for a few seconds before he looked back to his Yaya, who still seemed decided to ignore him.

 

The little boy turned his attention back to the cluster of plants, this time less upset by his new Yaya’s actions or lack thereof. Dennard tilted his head for a few seconds before a huge smile suddenly adorned his face.

           

“Come, come,” he called to the bushes, his Yaya not even sparing him a glance. She always thought the child was weird and kept seeing things only a stupid baby could see. As long as she could still feel him beside her, the bastard’s safe and she would not be fired for losing him.

 

Don Fernando was generous to his servants.

             

“Come, come!” Dennard called more enthusiastically, his chubby hands flailing, gesturing towards the bushes.

           

A cold wind blew. And then the child lost the smile and suddenly frowned.

           

“Come, come?” he asked once again, this time sounding doubtful.

           

Dennard’s eyes started to water again and he turned to tug at the skirt of his Yaya. Dottie finally spared him an impatient glance and lightly tapped his fingers grasping on her skirt.

           

“Stop bothering me and play with your toys and your fellow strange invisible friends,” she responded with a huff.

           

Dennard swallowed a lump in his throat and sniffed as he looked back to the direction of the bushes. His soft whimpers turned louder by the second, finally causing his Yaya to fully pay him attention. She clucked at him and followed the direction of his gaze.

 

The Yaya could see nothing but thick bushes and their shadows. After all, it was a sunny day.

           

The boy helplessly looked up at her, eyes shining with tears. When she didn’t respond, Dennard finally cried--- a full-blown, child cry.

           

They both felt another gust of cold wind.

 

And Dottie, after taking one last look at the bushes, shook her head and annoyingly brought the boy back to the villa.

 

This family has some weird genes in there.

 

\---

 

**Dennard**

**3-years-old**

When the boy was two years younger, having invisible friends was normal despite the oddity it presented. But now that he’s old enough to know the difference between real people and imaginary ones, talking about friends, which could not be seen by others became a concern--- not that Dottie cared, but she was a bit curious. There was a change _within_ the boy. And it seemed something that only he knew the cause of.

           

Dennard’s behavioral transformation from a 1-year-old to a 3-year-old was remarkable. The child was once a noisy, innocent, irritating little brat (Dottie’s thoughts), but now he acted like a 21-year-old trapped in a 3-year-old body. The child became quiet and subdued, and spoke only when needed. The toothy smile that used to make everyone smile back then was gone and was replaced by a small, polite one, which was rarely seen.

           

Still, Dottie’s feelings for the boy did not change.

           

Just like in the past two years, the woman still did not like Dennard. She still did not talk to him unless necessary. Never smiled at him. Never played with him. She managed to tolerate him by paying more attention to her romance novels than his weird behavior.

             

The boy seemed to also become familiar with this attitude and no longer cared. His young mind seemed far too occupied with taking in the small world of beauty around him, which most people took for granted to allow the hostility of his Yaya to distract him. The child just seemed grateful for their every day trip to the plaza.

 

It’s still the highlight of his day—the only thing that did not change. It was only during the trips in the plaza when Dennard acted like his age—a playful 3-year-old kid.

                         

Dennard lay on his belly, his cheeks cupped between his hands, as he silently observed the grasshopper perched on a grass leaf. He recognized it from one of his books. It looked more fascinating in real life with its shiny green body and beady black eyes.

           

The grasshopper twitched, causing Dennard’s eyes to widen in delight. It looked like it’s about to jump.

 

Excitement flowed through the child as a huge smile formed on his lips--- he was about to witness a fascinating scene! He moved closer to witness such a miracle of nature.  

           

His eyes followed the movements of the grasshopper as it bent more its already-bent legs. Dennard held his breath in anticipation.  

           

The grasshopper didn’t make him wait. It finally hopped from its perch to land on the next grass leaf. Dennard squealed in delight.

           

Until he realized that the grasshopper did not reach its next target perch.

           

The grasshopper landed in the ground on its back, where it twitched twice before it lay immobile.

           

It was dead.

           

The smile from Dennard’s face disappeared and his gaze automatically flew to the familiar bushes. His tiny forehead was creased with anger. He stood up and walked determinedly toward the direction of the bushes, his actions finally catching Dottie’s attention.

 

The Yaya set aside her book as she watched the plans the tiny brat has on its ugly little head.

           

But Dennard did not feel his Yaya’s gaze on him as he stood in front of the cluster of bushes and looked up as if he was talking to someone taller.

           

“Why did you kill my friend?” he asked, anger in his tone. “My friend just wants to hop and you killed it. You’re a meanie.”

           

Dottie looked at him from a five-meter distance, clearly not amused by what she’s witnessing.

           

“Who’s the brat talking to?” she muttered.

           

“Stop killing my friends! Don’t be jealous!” Dennard’s voice got louder, prompting Dottie to finally stand up and end this mad display by the young master of the villa. She reached him in no time and pulled him away by the arm.

           

“Who are you talking to?” she asked suspiciously. Dennard’s childlike facial expression was long gone and he looked like his other version--- the 21-year-old soul in a boy’s body--- with how serious his expression was.

           

The boy glared at the air in front of him before looking at his Yaya.

           

“It killed my friend,” Dennard accused, pointing his finger at the air in front of him. “It killed my friend because I loved my friend. It’s jealous! It’s jealous, Dottie!”

           

“Stop doing that!” Dottie said impatiently. “There is no one in front of you, you crazy brat.”

           

Dennard shook his head, his glare turning into a sad frown. “It killed my friend. It did. Please believe me,” he whispered, almost pleading. He seemed like he wanted his Yaya to believe him even when he knew she didn’t like him.

           

Dottie only clucked her tongue at him and pulled him harshly away and towards their mat. “This will reach the Don and the Donya’s ears, you spoiled boy. I bet they won’t be happy to know that their only son has twisted screws inside his little head.”

           

Dennard did not reply, but his gaze remained in the direction of the bushes. He kept muttering _I hate you_ as his Yaya dragged him forcefully away from the place.

 

Dottie didn’t notice the glint in Dennard’s eyes as he continued to gaze at the bushes.

 

\---

 

Dottie sat across her bosses in Fernando’s study, recalling the recent event and the past events that showed how unstable Dennard’s mind can be. She went into a tirade for about fifteen minutes while her employers merely listened with indifference, which she didn’t notice. She was almost out of breath when she finished.

           

Dottie looked at her employers with hopeful eyes, expecting them to be worried and concerned about the actions of their weird son. But to her disappointment, Constancia, who’s pregnant at the moment, stood up and looked at her coldly. There was nothing but hostility on her face.

           

“My son is not a lunatic. If your opinion differs from us, I don’t want your presence felt starting tomorrow,” she said before walking out of the room, leaving Dottie and the Fernando alone.

           

Dottie met the Don’s eyes and she averted her gaze immediately.

           

“I am telling the truth, Don Fernando,” she said, her voice soft and a little defensive. “Your son is odd. I just want the best for him.”

           

Fernando’s lips twitched into a smirk. “You don’t need to pretend in front of me, Dottie.”

           

Dottie looked up. “What do you mean, Don Fernando?”

           

Fernando’s cold smile caused a tingling sensation at the back of her neck.

           

“I know you hate my son. I have eyes everywhere, Dorothea. You don’t exactly treat my son well.”

           

Dottie shook her head in denial. “That is not true! I… the boy is… and I… we’re--”

           

Fernando cut her words as he stood up from his cushioned chair. “Treat my son well, Dorothea. Or God will punish you for harming such an innocent child,” he said the last words gently, as if he’s God Himself talking to his prodigal children.

           

He left Dottie alone to her thoughts.

**\---**

 

He groaned loudly as a huge wave of pleasure took over his body, causing him to release his seed inside _her_. He can feel the sharpness of her nails as they dug onto the smooth expanse of his back as she clung onto him.

           

They both rode the last wave of orgasm before Fernando finally released her and lay on his back, his gaze at the elaborate ceiling of the huge bedroom. There was a beautiful painting on it—of angels and demons fighting. The demons looked very much like their angel twins except they had horns, tails, and were crying blood as they were wrapped with the fires of hell.   

           

The painting always relaxed the mind of the Don regardless of the bad mood he’s in.

           

After getting over her high, she crawled towards him and placed her head on his chest. His arm automatically wrapping around her shoulder.

           

“You are in such a mood, what happened?” she asked meekly.

           

“Dorothea is being a pest---but she’s not my biggest concern at the moment,” Fernando replied, his hands tightening around her.

           

She nodded, her hair softly gliding on the Don’s chest. “I told you she wasn’t suited to be Dennard’s Yaya.” She was pouting.

 

Fernando hummed his answer. “It was better for a new servant to handle my son. I don’t want the other servants to see I am favoring one of them.”

           

The woman continued to pout for a while before she finally looked up at him, a genuine, sweet smile on her face. “You mean me?”

           

Fernando pecked her forehead before chuckling. “Who else do I favor among the servants?”

           

The forbidden couple’s laughter rang into the night like a twisted duet of voice ranges.

           

“How’s Constancia?” she asked, sounding conceited. It was a tone she’d never use in front of the Donya of the house, but since the mistress wasn’t around while her husband was being putty in a servant’s hands, she could use any tone she wanted.

           

“Ah. My lovely pregnant wife,” was the only answer from Fernando.

 

This earned him another throaty giggle from his latest concubine, the one he was bedding for the past year because of her supple body. The sound caused excitement, yet again, to build up in his lower region.

           

Lust. Lust has been the powerful force that was still binding this marriage intact despite the fact that right now, it wasn’t his wife who’s sharing his bed with him.

 

Lust---one of the seven deadly sins.

           

But he’s not afraid. His wife was aware of his unexplainable constant desires, the consuming fire in his flesh that always burned. And since Constancia wasn’t fit for such a role in her current condition, he needed someone else to take care of his burning need to conquer his lust.

 

His wife knew about these trysts. And she was allowing it to happen. Not like she has a choice on the matter.           

 

The aroma of sensual pleasure continued to invade the couple’s bedroom all throughout the night. Lust became more powerful in the dark, under the moon.

 

In another room, _her room,_ Constancia was praying the Holy Rosary. All mysteries were for her husband’s soul to burn in hell.

 

And in another room of the house, there’s a conversation going.

 

3-year-old Dennard was sitting on his bed, wearing the angry expression he wore this afternoon. His bedroom was dark, but he seemed fearless. He only concentrated on glaring at a particular corner in his room.

           

“I hate you,” he whispered, his fists clenched. “My grasshopper friend did nothing to you and I loved it. Why did you have to kill it?”

           

There was no answer audible to normal ears, but the silence seemed to have given Dennard one and he got angrier.

           

“I don’t want to see your face,” he said stubbornly. “Ever!”

           

There was no answer, instead a sharp piercing cry of pain came out from the boy’s mouth. It was loud enough to wake Dottie and the Butler up, but outside the bedroom, there was only silence. As if Dennard’s room was in another dimension.

           

Dennard cradled his right cheek with his hand as blood and tears of pain and anger flowed down his cheeks. “You… hurt me,” he whispered. There was disbelief in his voice as though he couldn’t believe he was hit on the face.

           

The answer was another silence. But Dennard had closed his eyes, the frown slowly easing into a gentle facial expression.

           

“Don’t hurt me again,” the boy whispered into the night. “You’re the only one I have who cares. You get angry at me… but I know you care,” he added. “Please…. Please don’t hurt me again.”

           

Another silence.

           

Dennard slowly lay on the bed, his eyes still closed. “I did not mean what I said,” he murmured, almost shyly. “I… I want to see your face. I know…. I know you said you can’t for now, but I still want to see it.” Then he opened his eyes to stare at the foot of his bed.

           

“And I want to touch you too,” the boy admitted with a frown. “Can… can we do that when… when you show your face to me? I… I don’t like seeing your black face.”

           

Silence. But after just a tranquil moment, Dennard smiled.

           

“Do you promise?”

           

And the silence continued.

           

An hour later, Dennard was sleeping peacefully in his room, a soft smile on his face, as a possessive shadow of a hand ran its fingers through his wounded cheek, where sharp scratches were still visible.

 

A phantom’s touch, imaginary though it seemed.

           

The next morning, Dottie didn’t notice anything wrong with the young boy--- except the annoyingly soft, flawless skin of his cheeks that someone like her could only dream about.

           

There were times when Dottie felt like she wanted to mar that soft patch of skin.

 

\---

 

**Dennard**

**3-years-old**

**A few months later**

 

Villa Lopez was filled with the cries of a baby girl. Constancia Lopez finally gave birth.

 

This time, to a baby girl.

 

It was raining. The sky was almost black. The strands of rain were too thick that they caused loud rumbling as they hit the ground.

 

It was as if heaven was mourning.

 

Young Dennard was being summoned by Fernando. Enrico, the Butler, was the one who fetched Dottie and the boy from his room.

 

They were brought to Constancia’s room. Dottie remained outside while Dennard was allowed to enter.

 

Only Constancia was there, her face turned towards the window. But Dennard’s eyes weren’t on her. They were on the bundle of clothes that looked like it was haphazardly thrown beside the woman.

 

Upon reaching the bed, Constancia paid him a small glance, but averted her gaze as if it wasn’t her son beside her.

 

Again, Dennard paid him no mind as he took a peek at the wrapped bundle of clothes beside his mother.

 

It was a human. Like him. But it was tiny. Very tiny that he could crush it with his hands.

 

But it was…something new, fascinating the little boy.

 

When Dennard had caught sight of that beautiful, angelic face, he had forgotten about everything. His eyes and his mind were only on that little bundle of wonder.

 

It had been the start. Or rather an awakening of a dormant sin that started years ago in a place called _Magdalena._

 

Dennard had stopped obsessing over the voices in the shadows.

 

Because he had found another obsession.

 

Divina. His younger sister.

 

**TBC.**

 


	3. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Just always remember that Forbidden is primarily Dennard and Divina’s (it’s still them, but you know what I mean) story, not Alden and Maine’s. Alden and Maine are supporting characters. There’s nothing Forbidden in the love between A and M, only with their… er… past twins. 
> 
> WARNING: Please DON’T READ Forbidden if sensitive issues such as INCEST and sexual fetishes are uncomfortable for you. And if you don’t want to read such roles for A and M.
> 
> P.S REMEMBER, there are two TLs.

 

  _But the cowardly, the unbelieving, the vile, the murderers, the sexually immoral, those who practice magic arts, the idolaters and all liars – they will be consigned to the fiery lake of burning sulfur. This is the second death." -- Revelation 21:8_

 

**Dennard, 4**

**Divina, 1**

 

Dottie woke up with the usual feeling of irritation.

 

Her duties every morning included waking that annoying brat up, bathing him, and feeding him breakfast. She thought her duties would improve once the other brat was born, but no, she was still assigned to the primary brat.

 

Damn it.

 

Muttering curses under her breath, she stood up to get dressed. For a while, the furrow in her brows lessened as she gazed at herself in the full-length antique mirror. Dottie might not be the prettiest little thing, but she has a figure to die for and a warm pussy that any dick would want to bury itself into.

 

 _Including Don Fernando,_ she thought. And then blushed. It was a secret she refused to leak out.

 

Dottie has never really minded the Don until she caught sight of two shadows in the dark, doing the forbidden dance in the silence of the night.

 

It was a late evening and she couldn’t sleep. She went to get a glass of milk in the huge kitchen of their wing, only to find a different kind of milk dripping down the face of one of the maids. The maid was sprawled at the kitchen counter, her lithe body covered with sweat and semen. Her head was slightly hanging upside down on the edge, her mouth on the arousal of one, naked, groaning virile male, which Dottie recognized as the famous Don.

 

There were rumors circulating around the servants, but she hasn’t believed it until now.

 

Dottie hasn’t seen a more sensual and dirtier sight. Don Fernando’s head was thrown back, his face a picture of pleasure, his body glistening with slick sweat, as the maid swallowed his dick with her dirty little mouth.

 

Dottie had come right then and there. She hadn’t even noticed she was fingering herself until she felt her body shiver. If she wasn’t able to suppress her moan, she would have been found out.

 

She couldn’t look at the Don the same way again after that encounter. Her desires grew along with her affections. And there’s nothing more she wanted lately than the feel of the Don’s body writhing with hers, his rod pounding mercilessly inside her hole.

 

Dottie moaned, the sound of her voice alerting her to reality. With a frustrated sigh, she tried to calm herself. She couldn’t be distracted while she tended to the brat. What would she tell the Donya? _Hey, Donya Constancia, your son accidentally hit his head on the bathroom tiles because I was thinking about your husband’s dick on my pussy._

No, she couldn’t. Her time will come. The Don changed bed warmers as fast as he changed clothes.

 

She unclasped the first two buttons on her dress, revealing her cleavage. She let out an arrogant and a satisfied huff at the sight of the twin mounds, before she crossed the distance to her door and opened it to finally wake Dennard up. The brat’s room was connected to hers, a simple door the only one separating their rooms.

 

Dottie closed the door behind her and took a deep breath. She always needed extra breath before she could face the brat--- that’s who much she hated taking care of him.

 

“Let’s get this over with,” she muttered before turning.

 

The brat’s bed was empty.

 

It didn’t take long for Dottie to realize where the four-year-old kid was.

 

\---

 

She knew she would find him here. His obsession over her has been obvious from the beginning, but this… this just proved it.

 

Upon entering the room, Dottie has been rendered immobile.

 

In front of her, on a crib, lay two naked figures.

 

Dennard and Divina.

 

To the eyes of strangers, it would look normal. Just siblings sleeping together, arms around each other, without a care in the world.

 

But for some reason, this didn’t look normal.

 

Dennard and Divina were intertwined like two snakes spiraling together like ropes of sin.

 

They were two, but they looked like one.

 

His young body was molded to hers like two sets of hot molten clay.

 

The sensuality of the sight amidst the innocence was enough to disturb Dottie’s usually uncaring thoughts. Before she could notice her actions, she has made the sign of the cross and immediately proceeded to separate the two.

 

Dennard groaned, but didn’t wake up. He simply slumped himself in Dottie’s arms. Divina simply whimpered and fell back asleep.

 

Dottie has never done anything like this since she worked for the Lopez family, but for some reason, her conscience seemed to nag on her. She carefully placed the naked Dennard on the cushioned window seat, before dressing baby Divina back into her dressing gown. She gazed at the angelic look on her face before she turned her attention back to her little brat.

 

Dottie picked his clothes and silently dressed him up.

 

For the first time in her life as Dennard’s nanny, she has no words.

 

\---000---  

 

**Alden and Maine**

****

**_2016_ **

 

Maine is excited.

 

It’s her first horror film for GMA Films. While horror is not really her favorite genre (because she gets scared easily), it’s one of her dream roles. She grew up watching those horror flicks from Japan, the only country that produces legit horror films in Maine’s opinion. And it fascinates her how those films, even without the usual animated effects, can cause that lingering fear in anyone. Japan is just so good at that---establishing the mood through its films’ settings.

 

Who hasn’t been afraid of the Creepy Girl Crawler from the television (Ringu)? Maine remembers watching its first installment and not being able to sleep in her bed alone for a month even though Coleen was just a bed away. And since the plot fascinated her, she also watched Ringu 0, wherein Sadako was portrayed by the gorgeous Nakama Yukie, the actress who also played the gangster teacher in Gokusen. She even watched Ringu 2 after that. It was her least favorite because the plot was just confusing, but the fear factor was as great as the first two.

 

Then there’s the the Creepy Crawler from… _anywhere_ (Ju-on). She literally comes out everywhere. And her little boy with the black eyeballs who screams weirdly. Maine wasn’t able to sleep with a blanket for weeks because she’s afraid the woman would appear inside her blanket and just… _eat her._ The second installment, she couldn’t even watch. It was too scary for her.

 

The moment Maine’s eyes lands on the mansion, she can already feel the delicious fear.  It is unusual for her to feel this way, but the adrenaline caused by her excitement just pushes her to have mixed emotions.

 

 _Villa Lopez_ is beautiful, hauntingly beautiful. Though it isn’t the structure that causes Maine’s attraction to the place--- it’s something else.

 

There’s just this feeling, the feeling she felt upon laying eyes on the old house.

 

The mansion seems alive, breathing. As if it would engulf them whole the moment they enter it. While that thought could have scared people away, it doesn’t work on Maine. She is simply enthralled.

    

 _“Get yourself acquainted with the house,”_ is the director’s command upon arriving. 

 

So she does.

 

Maine explores the house, clearly fascinated by everything. The long, carpeted hallways, the antique mirrors placed everywhere, the small statues of angels, and other antique furniture---

 

Maine loves them all. She couldn’t exactly pinpoint where the fascination is coming from, but she doesn’t care. So when she is told that they are allowed to choose a bedroom in the second floor, she immediately goes upstairs to choose one for herself.

 

And she knows just which one.

 

She has seen all the rooms. There is one huge room in one of the wings, probably the Master’s bedroom, but Maine doesn’t like that. She doesn’t like the feeling of being there. There are different heavy emotions she feels the moment she enters it. She feels suffocated, drained, angry, and somewhat depressed.

 

But this room, this room is perfect. The moment Maine enters it, she knows it’s perfect.

 

It’s simple, minimalist, not heavily decorated and with ample space around. There is a lot of space to move around, as if the previous owner used it as a dance studio. There’s a four-posted bed near the window, with lace curtains dripped over it. On the opposite wall, there is a row of huge antique cabinets. Beside it, there was a coffee table with a single cushioned chair.

 

But none of those is what made it perfect.

 

It is the mirror, the mirror placed just beside the door. A mirror that looks like it has seen a lot throughout the years.

 

Maine walks towards it, her gaze not leaving the smooth yet tainted surface. Slowly, she reaches out and touches it, her fingers gliding towards the surface, as if she is caressing a long-lost lover.

 

Maine smiles. Slowly, she walks backward, her eyes never leaving the mirror. She sits on the rocking chair, the one placed beside her bed and just stared at her reflection.

 

She looks dazed, enchanted at what she could see.

 

She didn’t realize she’s being stared at. By someone else mirroring her smile.

 

A shadow of _a past._

 

\---

 

**Dennard, 8**

**Divina, 5**

 

Charles, a boy too skinny for his age, looked up from their small pile of woods, which he and Dennard “chopped” for their housewives, to ask his best friend something about one of their classmates.  

 

He frowned. Dennard seemed focused on somewhere else. Or rather someone else.

 

Again.

 

Charles sighed and let go of the wood in his hands only to tap Dennard’s shoulder. Dennard jumped and gazed at him.

 

“Yeah?”

 

Charles didn’t know how to tell him this, but he had to try.

 

“Den,” he started. “Can you… can you please stop looking at her like that? Remember, this is just Playhouse. She’s not… your wife.”

 

Dennard frowned at his best friend’s words. “What do you mean?”

 

“Divina. You look at her differently, you know.”

 

Dennard turned his head to glance at the two playing girls. There was a small smirk on his face, which he failed to notice. But Charles was there to see it firsthand.

 

“Den,” Charles poked him on the ribs, causing Dennard to avert his gaze from Divina. He scowled at Charles.

 

“Stop being that protective of her,” Dennard said harshly. “She’s not yours to protect.”

 

Charles shook his head. He wanted to explain it to Dennard in the best way an 8-year-old could explain. “I’m not being protective of her. But Den, it’s not only me who noticed your obsession with her.”

 

The frown turned into a defensive scowl as Dennard crossed his arms in front of him. “I am not obsessed with her.”

 

“You are,” the other boy responded.

 

“Prove it,” Dennard commanded in that silent way of his. Charles let out a deep breath before he answered him.

 

“Proof. You want proof? How are these as proofs?” Charles asked. “You don’t want anyone to hold her hand or touch her hair. Not even me, who is actually her--” He didn’t continue. Dennard knew what he’s talking about. “Even in Playhouse, you always wanted her to be your wife, which is--”

 

Dennard cut him off. “And what, you want her to be your wife?” His tone was that of a boy ready to engage in a war of tiny fists. Charles must have noticed it and immediately raised his hands in surrender.

 

“That’s inappropriate and you know that,” Charles responded. Neither of them elaborated, which was inappropriate--- Dennard’s subconscious actions or Charles’ supposed role in the playhouse. 

 

“I am not obsessed with her,” Dennard repeated quietly, in a tone that said he believed it.

 

“Whatever,” Charles replied. He didn’t want to engage in a nonsense battle with his friends. Not when his sister and her friend were just a few feet away. He just turned his attention back to the “task” at hand. When Dennard’s gaze went back to the girls, he didn’t even call him off.

 

Charles didn’t have the heart to tell Dennard that the way he looked at her was extremely scary. That every time Dennard gazed at Divina, there was something not right about it. No, Charles knew he wouldn’t hurt Divina. Divina was his sister after all. And Dennard would rather hurt himself before he could hurt Divina. But there was something fierce in the way he looked at her.

 

Dennard looked like he wanted to own her. Whole. And that he’d kill anyone who’ll try to be on his way.

 

Charles wished it was just a phase. That whatever sinful thoughts that were starting to form in Dennard’s mind, they would stop.

 

They had to. Because this, if not controlled, would end up to something not right.

 

To something Forbidden.

 

\---

 

**Alden and Maine**

****

**_2016_ **

 

During the third day of shoot, the bruises appear, marring Maine’s flawless skin.

 

Direk Pat fusses over her until she finally allows herself to be pushed towards the tent where the medical team stays.

 

One of the members of the medical team examines her, asking her questions and checking her vital signs. It doesn’t take long because she hasn’t seen anything on Maine.

 

“Sabi ko sa’yo, e,” she says to Direk Pat, who is frowning at her. “Nothing’s wrong! I feel good.”

 

Direk Pat frowns, but says no more. She allows Maine to leave the tent. When the young woman is out of hearing range, she turns towards the member of the medical team. “Wala talaga?”

 

“Wala po talaga,” she answers with a smile. “Ms. Mendoza said she easily gets bruises. Wala naman pong masakit sa kanya. If the bruises don’t fade in a day though, I recommend to bring her to a hospital. And it’s just to make sure.”

 

Direk Pat reluctantly nods, thanks the staff, and follows after Maine. She fails to notice the frown on the face of the examiner. She is looking at the direction Direk Pat has just passed.

 

She blinks once, blinks twice.

 

It’s still there. _He_ is still there.

 

A boy. A beautiful boy staring at them while she was examining Maine. He was standing just a feet away from Direk Pat. But now, the boy is several feet away.

 

But he is still staring. At her. An unreadable look on his angelic face.

 

She beckons for him to come over. But the boy shakes his head.

 

And then he smiles. His mouth slowly forming into a weird… lopsided smile. A smile that doesn’t show whether the wearer is happy or… not.

 

The medical examiner freezes in place. The boy’s smile widens.

 

She blinks again. Furiously.

 

The boy is nowhere to be found.

 

\---

 

“Maine, saan galing yan?” Alden asks as he enters the room, where a doctor just finished examining Maine. The doctor gives Alden a nod before he walks towards Direk Pat, probably to inform her about Maine’s condition.

 

Alden had an early shoot today and hadn’t seen his girlfriend this morning. He sits beside her and gives her a small peck on the lips before he turns his attention back to the bruises in her arms.

 

Maine shrugs as she leans sideways against Alden, his arms automatically wrapping around her shoulders. “Pasaain naman kasi ako, Love. I must have rolled over the headboard or something. Wala naman daw problema sa blood ko. I’m fine. It’s my second check-up. I was checked by the medical team earlier, but Pat still calls for a doctor.”

 

“She did the right thing,” Alden says as he lightly trails his fingers on the bruises. “They don’t look too bad though. Do they hurt?”

 

Maine shakes her head. “They don’t. I’m fine. Don’t worry about me. I miss you,” she finishes with a smile. A smile that never fails to distract Alden except now. Alden looks like he isn’t convinced, but he lets it go.

 

“I miss you too,” he says with a small smile. “Anyway, how’s your morning?” he asks, changing the topic into something lighter. He knows he can’t force anything else out of Maine.

 

Maine happily obliges and recounts the small fiasco in the kitchen this morning with the other casts. And soon enough, they are both laughing their hearts out, just happy to be around each other.

 

A couple in love, just content to be in each other’s presence.

 

They don’t notice one member of the production team looking in their direction, a frown on her face.

 

Sarah.

 

She looks disturbed as her eyes fell on something behind the couch, where the two are lounging in.

 

It was a little boy.

 

He is a handsome boy, with unruly black hair, pale skin, and the roundest, curious eyes.

 

The little boy is staring at Alden intently, as if seeing him for the first time. He is slowly leaning in to take a closer look at the laughing face of Alden.

 

The young man doesn’t seem to notice. He is intently staring at the love of his life in his arms.

 

The boy continues to lean in until his face is in front of Alden, an inch away from the handsome face of the older man.

 

Sarah, by this time, is pretty sure about what is happening right in front of her. But she seems frozen in place. She couldn’t move and she couldn’t even open her mouth, as if invisible hands are keeping her from doing or saying anything.

 

She helplessly watches as the boy continues to study Alden’s face, his expression changing from fierce to curious to just… content.

 

It would have been a normal picture, just a little boy looking curiously at one half of the phenomenal love team. A little boy staring at perhaps, his idol.

 

But it can’t be normal. It can’t be normal if there is no boy listed in the cast.

 

\---

 

**Dennard, 17**

**Divina, 14**

 

The shadow came back. Worse than it was before. The only difference was, Dennard could handle it better.

 

It was triggered by an incident. An incident which involved his sister, Divina. They were in high school--- Charles and Dennard on their fourth year, Divina and Maria on their second year.

 

Divina was brooding in the school garden when Dennard had found her. She was hiding behind thick bushes, sitting on the patch of grass there, her chin on her folded knees.

 

She had grown beautiful--- long, straight hair, petite body, the most tantalizing eyes, and a lean figure. Despite her forlorn gait, she still looked most beautiful for Dennard.

 

How he ached to hold her.

 

“Why are you here?” he asked as he sat beside her. “You were supposed to be in P.E. class. Maria texted us. Charles had sent me. He can cover for us better than me.”

 

“Ayoko dun.” She responded, her voice soft and… sounding a little insecure.

 

Dennard’s brows furrowed. “Bakit?” Divina didn’t answer. She just hugged her knees closer.

 

Dennard sighed. “Divina, if you don’t tell me what has happened, I’ll confront each and everyone of your classmates. And you know it won’t be pretty.”

 

And Divina knew he would do just that. Dennard was fiercely protective of her. He had once strangled a playmate when said playmate accidentally touched her chest. Such possessiveness and protectiveness could have annoyed her, but they just enveloped her in a certain warmth that only Dennard could provide.

 

So she told him. Everything. There would be lesser bloodshed that way.

 

Divina told him how the boys from the class started catcalling the girls. The PE uniforms had changed this year and the girls’ wore shorts instead of the usual bloomers, exposing their thighs more. She got the most catcalls because the boys said she had the best legs.

 

Dennard had been a little understanding at first… until Divina mentioned how Mikee, one of their jokester classmates, touched her breasts, this time, deliberately. Mikee had claimed he didn’t touch them, that he just happened to bump into her.

 

But she claimed to Dennard that she felt a squeeze. That’s why she had ran out and had hid from them.

 

From the way she was shaking, Dennard knew she was telling the truth.

 

Dennard had pulled closer and held her. After she stopped shaking, he told her she shouldn’t wait for him later. That he and Charles needed to finish something.

 

A project, he said.

 

If Divina wasn’t still distracted, she knew how poor of an excuse it was.

 

Of course Dennard wouldn’t leave Mikee alone. Not after he had lain a dirty hand and tainted Divina’s pure flesh.

 

Dennard was going to kill him. And with his bare hands.

\---

 

They had waited for him by the parking lot. They knew Mikee was going to be late in going home. He was, after all, banging their English teacher secretly. And it’s only after school hours that they could do that.

 

It was Charles who had delivered the first blows. But it was Dennard who had delivered the last.

 

Dennard had almost killed him.

 

With his bare hands.

 

Because for Divina, he would do anything

 

\---

 

He was home late.

 

Dennard walked the hallway leading towards his bedroom, deciding to pass by Divina’s room first to tell her that Mikee won’t bother her anymore.

 

He was used to not knocking every time he entered Divina’s room. She has never really minded. So Dennard pushed open the door quietly, just in case a maid was inside. He didn’t trust the maids. Not one of them. Not even their butlers. Who could blame him? He grew up with Dottie the slut as his maid.

 

Dottie, who’s now probably selling her flesh somewhere else.

 

He was about to announce his arrival when the sight that greeted him stopped the flow of his words.

 

He stood there, still as a statue, staring at the sight before him. An onslaught of emotions devoured him, starting from the core and then spreading like wildfire all over his body.

 

It seemed like a long time before he snapped out of his temporary daze and slowly turned around, leaving the room.

 

He just wished she didn’t see him.

 

Dennard’s footsteps were fast, yet quiet. Upon entering his bedroom, he locked it and made a small announcement.

           

“I’m… I’m back,” he whispered to the shadows. There was an urgency in voice, his breath fast.

 

Silence was his only answer.

 

Dennard hurriedly removed his school coat and tie. He almost ripped his shirt open in his haste to extinguish the sudden fire that enveloped his body.

 

Then closed his eyes, clearly remembering the soft contours of his sister’s body. The sinewy back, the small waist, the perky flesh of her bottom.

 

Finally naked, he hopped on his bed, with his back on the headboard.

 

He has a flawless physique except the possessive mark on his right chest, which had been there years ago, when he had accepted the truth.

           

“Come here,” he whispered, beckoning for the shadow that has been a part of his life, his mind, like an invisible phantom.

 

Then he started stroking himself, his eyes closed, his face a mixture of pain and pleasure.

 

He knew it was Forbidden. To think of his sister that way. But he couldn’t control his urges. He couldn’t control his desires. He couldn’t control the painful twist at the center of his chest every time he thought of her.

 

Divina. Divina was sin personified.

 

Dennard knew that she’s the reason he’s going to fully succumb to the shadows.

 

Because in the shadows, the Forbidden was hidden. The Forbidden was nothing but a ghost, a phantom which no one could prove existed because it couldn’t be seen.

 

Dennard let out a guttural moan and came, releasing the first shot of his forbidden thoughts.

 

He didn’t open his eyes even after his breath has returned to normal.

 

A smile slowly formed on his face.

 

“Divina,” he whispered before he succumbed to the darkness.

 

_Several rooms away…_

She knew. Divina knew he was there. She was, after all, facing the mirror, naked.

 

Divina had felt his burning eyes on her body. While her conscience was pushing her to call him off, she couldn’t. She knew it was wrong.

 

His eyes on her just sent delicious shivers, covering her body with electricity from the top of her head to the tip of her toes. They caused a certain hunger in her that she couldn’t understand.

 

She’s young. She’s just 14. Was it normal to feel this way?

 

With shaking fingers, Divina closed her eyes and allowed her fingers to run themselves on her neck, down to her collarbone.

 

She moaned. That felt so good.

 

She moved her hands lower, allowing her to touch her small breasts.

 

She moaned louder. She got braver.

 

She moved her fingers lower… down to her navel… until she finally reached that warm flesh between her thighs.

 

Divina slowly inserted a finger to that aching hole.

 

She let out the loudest moan, which caused her to open her eyes abruptly, realization dawning on her. She hastily removed her finger and stared at it.

 

It was glistening with something wet.

 

Divina’s eyes widen. She was trembling as she got dressed. She almost tripped on her way to the altar. Hurriedly, she snatched the holy rosary and went back to her bed.

 

She closed her eyes and started praying.

 

For immediate forgiveness.

 

She ignored the way her flesh was still burning.

 

For Dennard, her brother.

 

**TBC**


	4. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Forbidden (Forbid, Den), with all its sinful chapters, is now public. Still, I advise that you read the warning. If you can’t read something with such themes, please don’t read.
> 
>        
> 
> Also, please don’t compare it too much with the one-shot. The Forbid, Den one-shot was cut. I needed to change some details for them to fit a one-shot. Now that it’s a multi-chapter, the details are back. So there will be a lot of discrepancies between the two. =)
> 
>  
> 
> WARNING: Incest. Graphic Sex. Murder. Sexual fetishes. Horror. Adultery. Concubinage. Cursing. And it’s unbeta-ed, because who would beta this piece of shit?  
> 
>  
> 
> DEDICATION: @theorangeorbiter x Any type of bird. Because you made all of us suffer in the AMACon GC, you dickwad. This is your porn-ish (?) debut.

 

_"And they worshipped the dragon which gave power unto the beast: and they worshipped the beast, saying, Who is like unto the beast? Who is able to make war with him?" (Rev 13:4)_

 

**Divina, 14**

**Dennard, 17**

He continued to watch her in silence. His desires encaged inside the four walls of his bedroom.

 

He couldn’t touch her, but he wanted to. The desire to do so was a huge pull to his soul.

 

And to his groin.

 

The voices in the shadows tempted him, teased him, pulled him.

 

But he continued to fight. To resist.

 

_For her._

 

It was always for her.

**Alden and Maine**

**2016**

 

Sarah is used to the boy by now even though she couldn’t understand why she’s the only one who can see him.

 

He seems to be harmless. He just stares and stares and stares.

 

At Alden.

 

At Maine.

 

At her.

 

But mostly at Alden.

 

His presence is not… _evil_. No ominous feeling or any kind of gripping air can be felt whenever he is there. He is always attached to Alden’s hips. He appears every time Alden is in the scene, as if he is the older man’s shadow. He always watches the young actor, his inquisitive eyes not leaving him. He doesn’t even blink, as if afraid that if he does, Alden will vanish on the spot.

 

Speaking of vanishing, whenever Alden leaves the room to shoot somewhere else, the little boy vanishes with him.

 

Truly like a shadow.

 

There is only one thing Sarah notices about the boy, which she finds… _strange_ and somewhat disturbing---he always sits in front of a mirror.

 

The mansion is full of mirrors. At every corner of a room, there’s a mirror, or at least a surface that reflects.

 

The little boy always watches Alden through mirrors. Only through mirrors sans that first time.

 

And only Alden. His attention is solely on Alden.

 

There are times when Sarah can catch the boy’s expression change whenever he stares at the mirror, as if he can see something else other than Alden. But whatever it is he can see, Sarah has no wish of seeing.

 

The little boy doesn’t cause much trouble. He just sits there. Staring. Watching. Observing Alden with that unfathomable gaze.

 

Sometimes, he catches Sarah’s eyes. Sometimes, he smiles at her. Sometimes, he simply stares back.

 

These are the moments she feels calm and unworried. It was easy for her to think that the little boy is just a son of one of the staff members.

 

But then there are _those times_. Sometimes he… sneers at her, his innocent, young features turning wild, as if he is possessed. There are also times when he gives her a look that reminds her that he’s not a regular boy.

 

_That he’s very much not a regular boy._

 

There’s that fierceness in his stare that gives Sarah a dark kind of hair-raising feeling that never goes away even when she sleeps.

 

And Sarah doesn’t react, never reacts. Even when she feels like screaming and alerting everyone that there is an unwanted addition in the production crew. Because she knows if she does, the boy will take it as an invitation to… _be friendly_ with her.

 

So Sarah just lets him be.

 

She doesn’t need a friend like the boy with the inquisitive stare.

 

\---

 

**Dennard, 20**

**Divina, 17**

It’s been years, but the hatred just grew.

 

Dennard hated his mother as much as she hated him.

 

Constancia has never been a mother figure---she was just _the woman who gave birth to him._ She was nothing but a block of ice that refused to melt, denying to soothe the parched throat of a longing son. Dottie, with all her hatred towards him and libidinous desires towards his father, had been more of a mother figure---at least she was able to spend time with him. The only _motherly thing_ Constancia had done for Dennard was to stretch her vagina walls, squirting him out. But even that act was not done out of love, it was done out of duty.

 

All his life, Constancia had never talked to her son unless necessary. Not once has she taken care of him, touched him, or even looked at him straight in the eyes. She was there, cuddling him, only when there was a need to put up the perfect façade of a loving family. But while there was skin ship, her arms had always felt cold. Her mock embrace was nothing but a temporary shelter for her son’s loveless life.

 

Dennard grew up without a mother. And for a child, that was the harshest thing that he could ever receive. The lack of a pillar, of a foundation that would make a person whole, was a curse that he would forever bear.

 

But Dennard was only a human being. And he would always, always be vulnerable when confronted by overwhelming, contradicting emotions that destroyed the soul. And he would always, always run to the first person his instinct would lead him to.

 

Dennard, during his most rebellious age, had found the strength to confront his mother, asking for the comfort that only a mother could provide.

 

Dennard was in pain. He could feel his soul tearing into tiny little pieces. He kept hearing the voices in the shadows, and they kept pushing him to do things and think about things he shouldn’t be thinking about in the first place. Things that were taboo yet tempting to a confused young man.

 

His forbidden desires for Divina, his blood sister.

 

Dennard’s _earthly_ desires had started to consume his thoughts, like a wildfire to a luscious forest. His longing to devour Divina whole had been so strong that he didn’t know what to do. He had kept leaning towards the voices in the shadows, allowing himself to be pulled by their traitorous, sinful hands, yet there was always this pull that was preventing him from totally succumbing to the pull of the dark.

 

His… _pure_ love for Divina.

 

Dennard didn’t want to taint her. He didn’t want her to taint herself. Because he knew if he asked, she would _taint herself_ for him.

 

He felt like he was in purgatory---he was torn between heaven and hell. In heaven, he needed to totally forget in exchange of a pure soul. In hell, he didn’t need to, but there’s going to be a price to pay.

 

The eternal damnation of his soul.

 

Dennard couldn’t decide which transcendental universe was worth it.

 

So he had broken down. He had begged his mother, had cried in front of her, had asked for help, and had asked for anything that would free him from the all-consuming guilt and want. He was being destroyed inside, and his mind was a cornucopia of delusions.

 

He was damaged.

 

A mother, in normal circumstances, would break down. Seeing her child suffer would always be painful for a woman whose heart existed for her children.

 

But Constancia was not a normal mother. She wasn’t even a _mother._ She was no one but a child-bearer.

 

The cold, regal woman had just stood there, had looked at Dennard in his wrecked state, and had simply walked away with a sneer on her beautiful, marble face.

 

_“You are so much like your demon of a father. It was a good thing he’s dead. His soul is probably rotting in hell.”_

 

These were her only words before she left him. 

 

It was Divina who had once again, saved him from his self-made hell. The moment Constancia had left, Divina had entered the room and had enveloped him in her warm arms. She had held him until his pain had ebbed away. She had cried with him, had carried his pain with him, until he could no longer consider the pain, _pain._

 

Dennard felt like he couldn’t love her more.

 

So he vowed, to all things holy and unholy, that he would control his urges. Even if he had to beg the voices in the shadows.

 

He’d do it all for her.

 

Divina had to remain as pure as she was. Without anyone tainting her. Without him tainting her.

 

And he was able to. For years, he was able to. He was able to treat her like how a brother should treat a younger sister--- with moral limitations. He had climbed out of his rebellious phase and had just simply… cared for her.

 

He had protected her. He had loved her the way she should be loved.

 

Dennard became a brother. _Just_ a brother.

 

The voices in the shadows had left again. And it could have stayed that way.

 

Until Constancia, had once again, interfered.

 

Constancia had always been different with Divina. While at the first stages of her daughter’s life she seemed to not care about her, it had changed throughout the years.

 

She became a mother to her--someone that Dennard had never met in his life. She treated her with warmth and empathy. With rare bouts of sweetness and care. Dennard had witnessed it all, but he didn’t feel it was unfair. He was just happy and relieved that Divina was getting the mother she was supposed to have.

 

Then came her 17th birthday. The plot behind the tenderness was revealed.

 

Constancia, the master schemer that she was, had introduced her to Emmanuel Katigbak. He was the son of one of Constancia’s influential friends. He was rich, handsome, and popular--- the usual qualities that mattered at the time. He was also a gentlEmman despite his cockiness. He was everyone’s dream guy, well, now that Dennard was already taken by one Janna Saavedra.

 

Since then, Emmanuel kept visiting with a bouquet of flowers and gifts for Divina and Constancia. Something that caused Dennard to be… quiet once again.

 

Dennard and silence--- they don’t go well together.

 

And Constancia, she always seemed to push everything to its limits. She made sure that Dennard was always around whenever Emman decided to visit.

 

She was obviously enjoying the twisted disharmony of anger and disgust playing on Dennard’s eyes. She always relished his pain, the filthy mother that she was.

 

Today was one of those times. Constancia hosted a dinner, inviting both Janna and Emman.

 

Charles was there too. But Charles was being purposefully ignored by everyone. Constancia didn’t really like him. Because he kept Dennard sane. And a _sane_ Dennard was not someone Constancia enjoyed. She wanted an uncontrollable Dennard. She loved witnessing him being swallowed by the black hole that was his mind.

 

Constancia knew. She had always known. After all, the blood that flowed on Dennard’s veins came from her and her demon of a husband.

 

Emman had arrived first. He was already charming Constancia with his arrogant cocky humor when Dennard, Charles, and Janna had arrived. Divina simply remained polite and distant beside their mother. She just seemed to wake up from whatever trance she was into when she saw Dennard.

 

Her gaze automatically moved towards the hand encircling Janna’s waist and stayed there for what seemed to be a long time. Then she caught Dennard’s intense eyes.

 

Divina had looked away first. If she hadn’t, she would have seen the darkening of Dennard’s pupils. She would have seen the fire emerging from those dark pools, ready to burn anyone.

 

_Or someone._

Dinner had started with a tense atmosphere. Yet there was still an ounce of peace. Peace that everyone should have held on to while they still could.

 

Constancia started with the topics. Emman was all too willing to answer each and every inquiry from her. Janna was the same. She was that type of woman trained to please her future mother-in-law.

 

Divina only spoke when she was being addressed. She was simply being polite. Dennard on the other hand simply shut his mouth. He wasn’t needed anyway. Constancia never acknowledged him unless necessary.

 

_Necessary._

 

“Son,” Constancia began. Dennard immediately froze at the sound of the endearment coming from her snakelike mouth. It took a few seconds before Dennard acknowledged her.

 

“Yes… Ma?” He sounded like he swallowed a bitter pill. He had turned towards her, but his eyes were looking at somewhere behind her.

 

Constancia smiled a perfect smile. Perfect for Janna and Emman, but demonic for the other three. They were, after all, privy as to who Constancia really was.

 

“When are you going to put a ring on it?” she asked sweetly, turning her head to glance at the blushing Janna. “You’re twenty. You’re graduating soon. It’s the right time to start your future with someone whom you really… _love._ ”

 

Three figures flinched at the mention of _love._

 

When Dennard didn’t answer, Janna was fast to answer for him.

 

“It’s… fine, Tita. We’re not on a rush to get married. I might… Papa might send me to America to study another degree. It’s… fine, really.”

 

Constancia arched one perfect brow. “Why, iha, that’s perfect! You and Dennard can get married there. You can start a family there.”

 

Janna simply blushed. Dennard remained quiet, but his grip on the utensils were enough to bend them. Charles was already obviously tensed as he looked at his friend.

 

But Constancia couldn’t be stopped. She simply smirked in Dennard’s direction and turned towards the other couple.

 

“You, iho,” she addressed Emman, Emman who was staring at Divina with obsessive eyes since dinner started. “Don’t propose to my daughter yet. You’re still young”.

 

Her tone was mocking. And was a bait to someone stupid like Emman.

 

“Don’t worry, Tita,” said _stupid_ responded, his eyes still on the now uncomfortable Divina. “Maybe a couple of years from now, but not yet. Although I have a feeling we will enjoy getting to know each other.”

 

Constancia laughed. A throaty laugh that was so fake anyone dense could have known it was fake. But Emman didn’t. He simply laughed with her.

 

“Wag mo muna buntisin a,” Constancia said.

 

Emman reached out to trail his fingers on Divina’s arms. “I will try, Tita. I can always think about her while seeking for the help of my large hands.”

 

A loud scratching of a chair drew everyone’s attention. Dennard had abruptly stood up, effectively cutting all conversations in the table.

 

Without a word, he left. Charles immediately followed him.

 

Divina closed her eyes.  

 

Constancia, bless her, wore a genuine smile on her face.  

 

\---

 

“What was that all about?” Charles asked, exasperated, as he followed Dennard to his room. “Why did you need to do that?” He carefully closed the door behind them, not wanting to cause additional commotion. Dennard walking out from a peaceful dinner already placed both of them in the hot seat. And while he never really took Constancia’s threats of banning him from the Lopez’s mansion seriously, he didn’t want to push the woman to her limits. Dennard needed him. In a way, Divina needed him too. Because he’s the only one who could understand the inner turmoil she was causing her older brother. He’s the only one who could talk sense to Dennard. 

 

Charles reached out to tap Dennard’s shoulder, but the guy didn’t respond. He started pacing back and forth, his feet boring holes into the carpet. He was tugging at his hair while muttering incoherencies to himself. There was a wild look in his eyes, the type that would scare even the most fearless of men.

 

“Dennard---”

 

“Shut up,” Dennard said, abruptly turning his head to glare at his friend.

 

“But---”

 

“Shut. Up,” Dennard whispered harshly. “SHUT UP.”

 

Charles was a bit taken aback by the strength of his tone, but the guy lifted his hands in surrender and just sat on the edge of Dennard’s bed. The truth was, Dennard’s action wasn’t a surprise to him. He had witnessed how Dennard had kept his feelings caged inside him for so long, just because he didn’t want to cause problems for… _the cause of his problems._

 

He waited until Dennard was calm enough to sit beside him. Charles stared at his friend, on how he looked so confused and disoriented right now.

 

“Talk to me,” Charles finally said.

 

“He was being disrespectful,” Dennard whispered, his hands balling into fists. “He was stating innuendos. And that mad… that mad woman kept baiting him!”

 

Charles sighed. “So it wasn’t jealousy at all?”

 

Dennard turned his head towards him, his gaze hard. Charles muttered an apology. Dennard has never really admitted it straight, but he knew about the feelings. God, he was the first one who knew. He had known it even before Dennard had known it himself.

 

Charles decided to let it go. For now.

 

“Patrick came back,” he instead said, diverting away from the tricky subject of romantic sibling feelings.

 

It’s effective. Dennard immediately stilled. Charles took this as a sign to continue.

 

“He arrived a couple of days ago,” he said slowly while watching Dennard’s expression. “He said he… misses us and wanted to meet this Saturday for drinks. There’s that new… jazz club on Lincoln Street.”

 

It took only a brief pause before a reply was given.

 

“Is he… staying for good?” There was strangeness in Dennard’s voice, and it didn’t escape Charles. But it was the type of strangeness that the latter understood--- he knew where it was coming from. He has been, after all, acting as mediator for years.

 

Patrick was not the lovable type. He was a friend, yes, a close friend even. But he was the kind of friend that would be fiercely loved and hated at the same time. He was the type that anyone would want to stab to death and then resurrect right after. He was a bit… _screwed up in the head._ He wasn’t… evil. But his sense of _right_ and _wrong_ just didn’t make sense at times. However, the sole thing that made Patrick clash with Dennard all the time was the former’s… _free spiritedness_.

 

Patrick lived his life the way he wanted to. He never cared about the consequences of his actions. He acted randomly. He was insensitive and he lacked empathy. He often said anything he wanted to say regardless of the extent of its imposition.

 

Dennard never appreciated this. How Patrick always thought that everyone was similar to him. Dennard was a private person. There were so many details in his life that he couldn’t just expose. Patrick couldn’t understand that not every detail in one’s life should be pried upon and broadcasted. Because for him, things were not to be taken seriously.

 

Patrick and Dennard had always shared a love and hate relationship. The _hate_ part was always there, lurking, just waiting for a trigger for it to explode. The l _ove_ part still stayed because Patrick wasn’t always around to be a constant trigger. If he was, they would have killed each other by now.  

 

Charles stared at his best friend before he nodded slowly.

 

“Yes. He said… he wanted to stay. He said and I quote, _I’m tired of all those fat white, hungry pussies. The women here are the true definition of an Eve. The pussies here don’t bite._ ”

 

Dennard would have laughed if the one involved wasn’t Patrick. He sneered.

 

Charles sighed at the reaction. “Sometimes I don’t get it why you two are still friends. You spend most of your limited time hating each other.”

 

Dennard didn’t respond. But he seemed calmer than he was before. Ironic that the mention of Patrick did just that.

 

“It’s a fucked up friendship,” Dennard said after a few moments of silence, the dark tone in his voice already gone.

 

Charles just had to agree.

 

\---

 

Divina had tried to catch Dennard’s eyes when he had come back down. But her brother didn’t even look at her as he told Janna he would bring her home.

 

Her heart constricted with slight anger and pain, but she remained calm.

 

Janna, who was a bit smarter than Emman, didn’t put up a fuss. She simply stood up, kissed Constancia’s cheek, and hooked her arm around Dennard’s as she said goodbye to Divina and Emman.

 

Divina stared at Dennard’s tense form. It was obvious he was trying hard not to glance at her. There went the feeling of hollowness inside her chest again.

 

She caught Charles’ eyes before he followed the couple. There was an apology in there that made Divina felt a bit better. Charles has always been like another older brother. Without him in their lives, she didn’t know how Dennard and her could survive this.

 

_This._ There was something between them. There always has been something between them. But that something was being denied every time because that something couldn’t have a label. It just couldn’t have a label. It should remain the unknown.

 

_Unknowns_ should be feared. Because unknowns can lead anyone anywhere.

 

But it didn’t mean it wasn’t affecting both of them badly.

 

She could feel it--- she could feel his pain. She could feel his pain because it was echoing hers.

 

Divina closed her eyes and allowed her heart to rest from its continued twisting. She would talk to Dennard soon.

 

_Soon._

 

Constancia’s and Emman’s voices behind her faded as she resolved to do just that.

 

\---

****

**_Alden and Maine_ **

**_2016_ **

 

The aura the boy exuded only changes when Maine appears with more bruises.

 

It has been a week since Maine’s bruises had faded. She was able to wear sleeveless again. And as filming progressed, the incident had been forgotten.

 

But one day, when Maine appears from the bedroom she is staying in, she has more bruises than ever. There are several purplish-black spots on her arms. There are also several spots on her face.

 

“What happened?” Alden asks as he gently touches the bruise on her eye. His hand is trembling, failing to mask his worry.

 

“They don’t hurt,” Maine replies, reassuring him. She reaches out to hold the hand on her face. “I will just ask the makeup people to cover it well.”

 

But Alden wouldn’t have it. He fusses over her until she agrees to be brought to the hospital.

 

Three doctors examine her, and not one of them can find anything wrong with her. Once again, the diagnosis had been anemia. Maine comes back to work the next day.

 

And that’s when Sarah notices the said change within the boy.

 

Whenever the boy with the inquisitive eyes appear, Sarah can feel him, as if he wanted his presence known.

 

Even the other staff members can suddenly feel him. Sarah can see them hugging themselves as the air abruptly chills for a moment before she can see the boy standing there.

 

A sudden ominous air fills the room whenever the boy arrives.

 

But he is still quiet. Always quiet. But somehow, his silence freezes Sarah’s heart.

 

The little boy still watches Alden through the mirror, but gone is the curious look he’s been throwing at him. It is replaced by icy stares and unreadable glares, as if Alden had done something bad to him.

 

There comes a day when Alden wakes up with wounds in his arms and cheeks.

 

They look like cat scratches.

 

The little boy… _smiles._

\---

 

**_Dennard, 20_ **

**_Divina, 17_ **

 

It’s been a week since that fateful dinner, but Charles knew it hasn’t been resolved as he watched Dennard from the corner of his eyes.

 

His friend was sitting with them by the edge of the pool, but his eyes never left the young lady who was reading a book a few meters away.

 

_Them._

 

“Hey, Charlie, what’s up with Anal Face?”

 

Charles sighed and turned his head to meet the face of a grinning Patrick. “Nothing. He just had a fight with his sister and they haven’t made up yet.”

 

A flicker of interest shone on Patrick’s eyes. Charles glared at him.

 

“Don’t interfere. It’s complicated enough as it is,” he whispered. He knew that glint on Patrick’s eyes---it would never result to something good. Patrick was _born_ to complicate things. He’s living up to his reputation.

 

“She is a beauty, isn’t she?” Patrick said casually, ignoring Charles’s warning. “She always has been, but I never realized she could be this… _hot._ ”

 

Charles elbowed him on the rib. “I said don’t complicate things,” he hurriedly whispered. “He doesn’t need that, okay?”

 

Patrick smirked. And Charles knew he was too late.

 

He watched in silent defeat as Patrick went towards Dennard and hooked an arm around his neck, clearly surprising the latter. With the way Dennard froze, it was obvious the touch was unwanted. With a shake of his head, he walked towards them. The least he could do was prevent a second bruise.

 

“A little birdie told me you are not in favor of your sister’s suitor unlike Mommy Dearest,” Patrick said casually. “Would you allow me to be with her then?”

 

“Don’t even try,” Dennard responded coldly. Patrick laughed.

 

“Fine. Then can I go talk to her? To catch up on old times?”

 

“You are not even close.”

 

A fact. Patrick wasn’t around all the time for them to have a chance to be close. And whenever he was around, Dennard made sure he wouldn’t stay around Divina for long.

 

“What, you allow Charles to talk to her and you don’t allow me?” Patrick asked, his tone suddenly mocking. Charles took this as a sign to start interfering. Patrick’s small jibes usually lead to brawls. He has a talent of getting on Dennard’s nerves.

 

Dennard gritted his teeth. “Don’t you fucking touch her, asshole.”

 

Patrick looked amused. “What, you’re going to punch me and then explain to her why you did just that? You can’t do that, Dennard, my friend. You don’t want sister Divina’s perfect image of you, ruined.”

 

Dennard has no answer to that. Charles was fast to intervene.

 

“Patrick, stop goading him, please,” he pleaded calmly. “This is not the time for that. Just… Don’t start, please.”

 

Patrick scoffed, his eyes on the clenched fists of Dennard. But instead of backing away, he did the opposite. After all, he existed mainly to make fun of Dennard and his… _immoral_ morals.

 

He knew. Of course he knew.

 

He removed his arm around Dennard’s neck, gave him a sexy smirk, and strutted towards the unsuspecting Divina.

 

Charles was able to stop Dennard just in time.

 

\---

 

Divina felt the loud thudding of her heart as she felt Patrick approach.

 

She has always found him handsome. And hot.

 

No, she wasn’t in love with him, and would never be. It’s just that there’s something in him that was too irresistible not to notice.

 

Dennard had always warned her about him. She had also seen her brother’s efforts of making her stay away from Patrick. And she stayed away from him. Between Dennard and him, there’s no competition. Divina would always, always choose Dennard.

 

Still, she couldn’t deny that she felt attracted to him.

 

Maybe it was his bad boy aura. Or the way he swayed those manly hips with utmost confidence. Or the way he had always handled himself. Or the way he smiled at her when Dennard wasn’t looking.

 

No. It has nothing to do with the dream she has had of him and her when she was about 15. Of course it has nothing to do with that!

 

Divina blushed, and tried to look like she didn’t know he was approaching.

 

“Hey, lovely.”

 

She tried to act cool by lifting her head a few seconds after his greeting.

 

“Oh,” she said nonchalantly even though her heart was beating a mile a minute. “Hello, Patrick.”

 

Patrick smirked. “Aww. Come on. So cold. May I sit beside you?” he asked, motioning to the space beside her.

 

Divina briefly glanced at Dennard. But her brother was talking to Charles. She looked back at Patrick and slowly nodded. The young man didn’t waste any time and plopped himself beside on the grass.

 

“So what are you reading?” he asked, moving closer towards her. Divina could feel his warm breath on her hear. Unconsciously, she moved closer. His body heat was warming her up in a nice way.

 

Patrick smirked at her action. But he refused to turn around to see Dennard’s face. Instead, he casually wrapped an arm around her shoulder and pulled her closer.

 

To his surprise, she leaned against him and shared her book with him.

 

\---

 

A few meters away, a figure stood staring. His eyes burning with jealousy and rage.

 

\---

 

“See you around, lovely,” Patrick said, blowing her a kiss, which made her turn crimson once again. Then he turned towards Dennard, smiling at the grim look on his friend’s face. “And buddy, just call me if you would want to accompany me and Charles to that same club. Bye.”

 

Charles waved at them weakly before he followed Patrick.

 

The siblings both watched silently until the two turned around the corner of the mansion, leaving their sight.

 

Divina glanced at Dennard quietly. There was a certain guilt she was feeling.

 

But she couldn’t help it. Patrick’s touch had felt… familiar. And it have her a strange sort of comfort that she hasn’t felt from Dennard since… since Emman came into her life.

 

Dennard had been distant. And while she sort of understood why, she still missed him. Badly. And the first comforting touch that wasn’t Emman’s just happened to be Patrick’s. She had been craving for such a touch.

 

“Are you happy?”

 

Divina turned her head to see Dennard looking at her. “What?”

 

Dennard smiled, a cold, bitter smile that went straight to her core. Before Divina could react, Dennard was already pulling her away.

 

She allowed herself to be pulled away. Maybe… maybe it was time for them to talk.

 

\---

 

Dennard closed the door behind them with a loud thud before he released his vice grip on Divina’s hand.

 

Divina reached out to touch him. “Den--”

 

“Don’t fucking touch me with those filthy hands!”

 

Divina’s hand remained afloat for a moment before she slowly brought it down. “What?” she asked, sounding hurt.

 

Dennard glowered at her, ignoring the pained look on her beautiful face. “I said to not touch me with those filthy hands.”

 

“What is happening to you?” she asked, her tone a mixture of worry and irritation.

 

He shook his head and smiled mockingly at her. Divina hated that smile.

 

“You were flirting,” he said as-a-matter-of-factly. “You were flirting with fucking Patrick right in front of my eyes. That’s what happened.”

 

“What?” Divina asked incredulously. “I wasn’t flirting. We were talking, Dennard. We were talking.”

 

Deep inside, both of them knew it was only half of a truth. Yes, she wasn’t flirting, but she still welcomed his touch. And while there was nothing wrong with that, Dennard couldn’t accept it. Ever.

 

Only he was allowed to touch Divina that way.

 

“You draped yourself all over him, Divina,” Dennard said coldly as he walked towards her. Divina took a step back.

 

“I… I just leaned on him,” Divina responded weakly.

 

Dennard chuckled coldly. “Leaned huh? He was almost licking your neck. You didn’t feel it? Or you simply enjoyed his hot breath on your skin? God, Divina, you are such a desperate slut. Do you thirst badly for such a touch? What about Katigbak? He was all over you every time he came here. What’s the difference between their---”

 

A loud, rough sound reverberated inside the room. A sound of skin hitting a skin.

 

Divina had slapped him.

 

Dennard lifted his hand to touch his aching cheek as he stared at her, his eyes unfathomable.

 

“I… I don’t know what’s going on inside your head right now, Dennard,” Divina said softly as she watched her brother soothe his own skin. She wanted so very much to replace his hand with her hand, but right now, she wasn’t ready for whatever trigger that action might cause. “I… I don’t care if you hate me. But don’t call me that. Never call me that.”

 

She was answered by another laugh. It was louder and deliberately insulting. Divina waited for another insult.

 

It didn’t come.

 

Instead she watched as Dennard shook his head and turned his back on her. Divina knew he was going to flee again. Run away from whatever he’s feeling again. And he couldn’t do that all the time.

 

She closed her eyes and said the first words that came to her mind, hoping and wishing that it would stop him from running away.

 

“You’re just jealous because Patrick can fuck me and you can’t. Because you are nothing but a fucking coward who couldn’t handle his feelings towards his own sister.”

 

Dennard froze on his steps, her words echoing like a stuck record inside his head.

 

_A fucking coward who couldn’t handle his feelings towards his own sister._

_A fucking coward who couldn’t handle his feelings towards his own sister._

_A fucking coward who couldn’t handle his feelings towards his own sister._

_A fucking---_

Dennard’s eyes slowly widened, the implication of her words creeping onto him like a phantom that finally revealed itself after a long haunting.

 

She knew. She. Fucking. Knew. And she still had the guts to whore herself to his fucking friend like the earth version of Babylon.  

 

Dennard snapped.

 

With a speed that knew no limits, he turned around and slapped Divina hard on the cheek, immediately sending her sprawling on the floor.

 

Divina automatically lifted a hand to touch her cheek. There was no surprise on her face as she looked up at her, as if she expected such a harsh action from him. There was fierceness in her glare that offered challenge instead of submission.

 

“It’s true, isn’t it, Dennard? Has been for a while now,” she goaded.

 

Dennard’s eyes looked at her, then at his hands.

 

Divina remained on the floor until she could hear his car zoomed away.

 

She stood up, arranged his skirt, and went to stand in front of his mirror. She stared at her reflection.

 

Her cheek was red from his treatment. It stung badly, harshly. She wouldn’t be surprised it if it bruised.

 

After taking one last look at her reflection, she went out of his room and ran towards her own room. She locked her door, and jumped onto her bed, face first.

 

Her arms curled around a pillow, like a baby looking for warmth and finally finding it.

 

When she lifted her face, there were no tears. Instead there was a smile playing on her face. A beautiful smile that hadn’t made its appearance for a long time.

 

For some reason, she felt satisfaction. The anger in Dennard’s eyes. The way he hit her. The way his hands balled into fists as is he’s longing to hurt her in many other ways.

 

She was angry, yes, because he was acting stupid. But she also felt… strangely happy.

 

Dennard touched her. He touched her. He _could_ still touch her. She could still affect him. Divina wouldn’t say it out loud, but the hold she has on him was gratifying for her soul.

 

Nothing had changed. He just got better at hiding his feelings.

 

Divina took comfort in that. She found that oddly satisfying.

 

She slept with that enigmatic smile plastered on her face. 

 

\---

 

The club was full that night when Dennard, Charles, and Patrick stumbled inside.

 

Charles was quiet, simply staring around with that wary look on his face as he followed his two friends. Among the three, he’s the responsible one, the one who always explained things, forcing the other two to see sense.

 

Patrick was the wild one. His eyes were already twinkling with excitement as he took in the strobes of colors surrounding the venue. His hips were swaying to the beat of the 1960’s music. He snatched a girl from someone else’s arms and started dancing with her.

 

Dennard simply looked indifferent and a bit lost. Charles had to choose whom to tend to first--- the one suffering from emotional problem or the one who was about to suffer a physical one.

 

Charles chose Dennard. Patrick could look after himself for a few moments.

 

He guided his friend to one of the reserved rooms.

 

The room was small, and was measly decorated. There was only a long couch and a wooden table. But there was less noise inside and Dennard feel more relaxed.

 

Hopefully. Because with the way he looked right now, he needed one heck of a distraction.

 

Charles closed the door behind them and sat beside his friend. Dennard just stared ahead, not seeing anything. There was a faraway look on his face that told him he was lost and he didn’t know what to do.

 

He and Patrick (even though he wouldn’t admit it) were both surprised when Dennard showed up just before they left for the club. He didn’t say anything, just sat on Patrick’s bed and kept silent. He also followed them to the car without saying anything.

 

Patrick had worn a smirk on his face as he drove, but even he didn’t try to spur Dennard’s emotions.

 

The car trip was thick with something else that’s not just anger and jealousy.

 

Now that Patrick was busy selling himself off on the dance floor, maybe Dennard could open up to him.

 

Charles allowed him a thirty-minute silence before he finally dived in.

 

“So… what happened after we left?” he asked as casually as he can. “Did you and Divina talk?”

 

Silence. The typical Dennard silence.

 

Until Charles heard him take a deep breath after the pause. And that usually meant he was ready to talk. That he would talk. He waited.

 

“I did something bad,” Dennard finally declared in tone so indifferent that Charles knew it was grave.

 

“How… bad?” he asked.

 

A pause. And then, “It’s so bad. I left after---”

 

Their almost-conversation was cut off when the door to the reserved room burst open.

 

“Hi, guys,” Patrick greeted. They wouldn’t have minded him if it wasn’t for the young woman he was dragging with him.

 

“Patrick, what is this?” Charles asked as he stood up. “Why is she here?”

 

The woman wasn’t really struggling, and she also didn’t look that scared, but there was a wary look on her face as she stared at the three of them.

 

Charles ignored her and addressed Patrick. “Bring her back to the dance floor, Pat.”

 

Patrick shook his head and grinned. “Nope. She’s mine,” he said, pulling the girl closer by the waist. The girl immediately laid her head on his chest, a move that didn’t make sense because of the expression she wore.

 

“Patrick, listen to Charles and just give that girl back to her boyfriend or something,” Dennard intervened.

 

“Awwww, you’re actually teaching me morals now, Dennard?” Patrick teased, making Dennard’s jaw tighten.

 

Charles immediately intervened. “Pat, please. Let the girl go and we will all talk.”

 

Patrick smirked and answered him, but his eyes were on Dennard. “Nuh-uh. I specifically chose her for Dennard.”

 

Both Dennard and Charles froze.

 

Patrick nodded as he led the woman further inside. “This woman dropped her boyfriend to dance with me. She flirted with me right in front of her boyfriend’s eyes. And you should see the boyfriend’s face. He was angry, he looked possessed. But he couldn’t do anything but watch.”

 

“Pat---”

 

Patrick raised a hand to cut him off. “If I were the boyfriend and my woman defied me, I would teach her a lesson.”

 

Cold silence filled the room as he closed the door behind them.

 

“Lesson. We will have a lesson tonight,” Patrick declared. “The first thing you need to know is to show her what could happen to a woman when she defies her man,” Patrick declared as he locked the door of the Reserved room behind him, his hand still gripping the woman’s wrist tightly. The woman looked scared, her eyes were wide and she was trembling. But there was also the expression of undeniable desire as she kept licking her lips sensually like a snake hunting for its prey. 

 

“This one right here,” Patrick announced as he slightly pulled the woman towards him. “This is the perfect example of a disobedient woman. Fuck, you should have seen what she did to her boyfriend when she saw me. She left him. Alone. To rub her slutty body against mine.”

 

There was a faint moan from the woman.

 

“Sluts always deserved to be punished using the harshest way possible,” he said, sounding like a demon in full mode seduction. “Let me fucking show you how to give them what they deserve.”

 

The color drained from Dennard’s face. Patrick smirked. And Charles… for some reason he couldn’t move. He just stood helpless.

 

Then it happened so fast.

 

Slowly, a red haze covered the sight, obscuring the view of the reality, seeing only the movements of disguised silhouettes.

 

Patrick snatched the girl and pinned her to the wall, earning a painful groan from her. He immediately engaged her into a brutal, bruising kiss that took her breath away.

 

Patrick inserted a thigh between her legs, and rubbed it hard against her clothed, aching center, allowing a loud moan to escape from her occupied lips. He kissed, licked, sucked at every crevice of her neck, as his hands touched and played with every part of her blazing body.

 

She was on hot and she was so wet, submerged in a hot tub encircled by tongues of red flames.

 

He drowned herself in the sounds she was making, allowing her to take flight on the waves of desire. Her wings floated her up towards the sky as he pleasured her with the strokes of the cold air.

 

Then he abruptly pulled her down, snatching one of her wings and trapping her under him.

 

He tore her open with his beak of poison, feasting on her innards of desire.

 

How she screamed. Screamed of both pain and pleasure.

 

Two gyrating bodies, fluid as the swift blaze of the wind, danced with the dried, falling amber leaves.

 

He bent her legs upward, a loud desperate cry escaping from her lips at the brutal treatment. But Patrick didn’t seem to hear anything as he entered her swiftly, tearing the whole of her into several painful pieces.

 

He looked like a wild eagle, his wings spread fiercely as he took advantage of the prey he had just caught.

 

His wild feathers encompassed her, trapping her smaller wings inside the cage of his sinful call of the flesh.

 

They shot fast and straight towards the infinite vast of clouds that people call Heaven, shooting through the quasi fluff of illusions.

 

Up, up, up into the vast expanse of the unknown sky.

 

And then he clipped her wings and let go.

 

She was falling. The drops of crimson and the pieces of her flesh falling with her, as she came spiraling down to earth akin to Icarus and his overhauled wings when the scorching heat melted the binding cement of the intricate nerves.

 

She fell to the ground. Lifeless. Cold. Her wings mutilated.

 

But he remained afloat, his wings spreading proudly---an eagle that just conquered its first flight.

 

The red haze slowly dissolved. The silhouettes slowly disappeared. The outline of the shadows started to make sense.

 

Then, a revelation.

 

Three pairs of eyes stared at the now breathless body of a frail young woman.

 

She was naked except for the red scarf wrapped around her delicate neck, which was the cause of her asphyxiation. Patches of black and blue started appearing in every crevice of her cold perfect body. Traces of semen and blood could be seen dripping from her core--- a sign that the penetration had been painful and vicious.

 

And her eyes. Her eyes were open, staring lifelessly at the three of them.

 

She was a sight to behold. The perfect vision of beauty in death.

 

Three pairs of eyes met.

 

One in cold dread.

 

One in pain.

 

One with unexplainable glee.

 

Yet they all fled. Hidden, surprisingly, by the colors and loud noise of the night.

 

\---

 

They slithered away without a trace to their path.

 

They fled the scene quietly while the crowd was busy getting wasted and dancing to the onslaught of new records.

 

They were able to arrive at the Lopez’s mansion safely despite the way Dennard had driven. A silent agreement was made between the three of them as they entered the mansion quietly. Dennard had led them towards the Servants’ Corridor, the pathway that only the servants use. They couldn’t risk their cover being blown if they meet Constancia or Divina along the way.

 

Their footsteps adopted the same rhythm of silence until they finally arrived inside Dennard’s room. It was only then, when they’re being surrounded by blackness, that the voices of their conscience decided to speak.

 

Even Patrick was left silenced.

 

_“You killed her!”_

_“I DIDN’T! I didn’t---”_

_“You fucked her and you killed her, you sonofabitch!”_

_“She was begging you! She was begging you!”_

_“You fucking took pleasure in her pain! She was bleeding, she was bleeding and you kept pounding onto her! There was no mercy, there was no mercy!”_

_“And you watched! You watched and didn’t stop me!”_

Dennard covered his ears, his eyes shut tightly. He didn’t want to see them. He didn’t want to hear them. They’re confusing him. They’re being noisy. They’re being childish. They’re being---

 

Dennard clutched at his hair, tugging hard at the strands. He can’t think. He can’t think clearly because of the voices. They’re speaking at the same time. They’re flooding his mind with thoughts that weren’t his. They’re---

 

_Wetness._ He stilled as he felt wetness on his face.

 

Slowly, he brought his hands down.

 

His eyes widened as he stared at them, witnessing the drops fall one by one to his hands like the pitter patter of rain.

 

Bloody. They’re bloodied. The veins outlined by the thick, crimson liquid.

 

He looked up and found two sets of eyes staring at him. Patrick was glaring, but there was a smug look on his face that somehow told him what really happened. Charles’ stare was soft, kind, but there was an unmistakable _pity_ in there.

 

“I—I---” _killed her._ Were the last words left unsaid. Patrick nodded with mock solemnity, his face serious but his eyes were glinting with amusement. Charles was kinder. Gentler. And went to him, touched his shoulders lightly.

 

“You did,” he said in a voice full of understanding. “You did kill her. But… but you were not alone in this, Dennard. Patrick and I killed her too. We all killed her.”

 

Dennard shook his head. “You can’t have killed her. Don’t lie to me. You can’t have killed her!” He started panicking as he stepped back away from Charles. “You don’t have blood on you… how can you say that? You don’t have a single stain! You don’t---DON’T TOUCH ME!”

 

The sight of the immaculate, unbloodied clothes of his two friends sent his emotions into overdrive. He backed away until his back reached his door. He buried his face in his hands as he slid down to the floor.

 

“I killed someone, I killed someone,” he continued to mutter, his voice echoing like voices of a deranged multitude of wretched souls.

 

He cried. A heart-wrenching sob escaped from his lips and soon, he was tearing his own heart into pieces.  

 

For a few sacred moments, there was nothing but the sound of Dennard’s anguish. The sounds of his guilt and grief intertwining like rough notes of a sonata. He continued to cry, and cry, until there was no tear left to shed.

 

Dennard sniffed and wiped his face on his sleeve.

 

He stared.

 

His sleeve was clean. Wet from his tears, but clean.

 

Dennard stared at his hands, his bloodshot eyes confused.

 

There was no blood, not even a trace of it.

 

He touched his hair and it was cry, a bit sticky from sweat, but it was dry.

 

With a struggle, he stood up and hurried towards the mirror in his room. He stared at the smooth surface, his eyes taking in the images that were now flashing like specters of light.

 

He could see Charles and Patrick behind him.

 

He saw Patrick and the playful smirk on his face.

 

He saw Charles and the pleading expression he often wore when he felt desperate.

 

And then he saw himself.

 

His eyes were bloodshot, his hair was in frustrated disarray, his expression was manic.

 

And then suddenly, flashes of what happened at the club invaded his mind. He started remembering everything. Every tiny little thing that happened in the bar.

 

He snapped out of his memories, his mind back with a horrifying vengeance.

 

The voices were gone. And Dennard watched as the blobs of images in the mirror slowly melted, turning into one whole complicated mess.

 

Only the broken one remained.

 

Realization caught up on him so fast that it took his breath away.

 

He looked behind him. There was no one there. No Patrick. No Charles.

 

All this time, Dennard had been staring at his reflection in the mirror.

 

There was no Patrick. There was no Charles.

 

Dennard was Charles. Dennard was Patrick. Dennard was Dennard.

 

And they all existed for Divina.

 

**TBC**

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: To those who were a BIT confused, I feel like I needed to explain things. You may or may not read these notes.
> 
>  
> 
> The clues were there since the beginning. Charles, one of Dennard’s alter egos existed since he was young. It was his way of coping with the two, strong opposing feelings he has for Divina. Patrick, however, only appeared whenever he needed a release for his aggression. When he needed to be bad and act on it. Has Dennard killed people before when he was being taken over by Patrick?
> 
>  
> 
> Yes. He was him, but he wasn’t him.
> 
>  
> 
> Dennard was hearing voices since he was a kid. They were like phantoms surrounding him. The voices had evolved depending on his need for them. When he was young, there was a parental figure in his head. This was the phantom he kept seeing whenever he’s with Dottie. The voices became his own when Divina arrived. He had forgotten all about the longing for a parental figure because he found a new obsession. Divina.
> 
>  
> 
> And oh. Divina knew about Dennard’s situation. But because she loved him so much, she didn’t make a big deal out of it. She knew there was no Charles. Just that sometimes, Dennard referred to himself as Charles. She knew there was no Patrick, but Patrick intrigued her.
> 
>  
> 
> She knew. She always knew. And she accepted it. And that, my dears, should tell you something.
> 
>  


End file.
